


Father Time

by RavenCrowandCo



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Unwound Future, Unwound Future AU, Unwound Future Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-08 12:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenCrowandCo/pseuds/RavenCrowandCo
Summary: Clive Dove's life changes forever when a locked box and a slip of paper lead him to Dimitri Allen...Consider this a rewrite of the Unwound Future with my own edits and headcanons.





	1. The Future is Now

The young woman tumbled through something dark and hot and landed with a thud on the concrete. She gasped for air and trembled. Her hand rose to her blood-stained forehead. For a moment, the world blurred in front of her and she thought she was going to die. Then everything stabilized, slowly but surely, to reveal a city that felt vaguely familiar.

Her head throbbed as she tried to process where she was. Everything was cold. She shifted her weight and a burst of pain shot through her legs. Something wasn’t right. Who was she? For a moment she struggled. Her brain was foggy and her vision kept slipping. _Oh, I remember now. Wait… Oh god where am I?_  A sudden panic washed over her. After a few deep breaths, she grounded herself by pressing her fingers into the rough, jagged concrete.

She carefully turned around, thoughts meandering. Her eyes traced the outline of the city against the bright orange sky. A heavy shadow passed over her. 

"Are you alright, miss?" A man had seen her laying on the ground. "Can I help you? Do you need to get to the hospital?"

"I'm fine," she said, waving him off. "I know what I'm doing." She spoke like she was drunk.

"Are you sure? That's an awful lot of blood. Let me help you get up."

She reluctantly took the offer and she was helped onto her feet, weak and trembling.

"Do you..." She struggled to speak. "What time is it?"

"Why, it's nine-thirty in the morning."

She held her head in her hands. "No, um, not like that... I mean what day is it?"

The man told her the date, month, and year. 

 

Then it dawned on her.

"You're not serious, are you?" 

The man assured her that he was correct.

"Oh my-" With a delirious laugh, she ran her fingers through her red hair.

 

_“It worked!”_


	2. For Journalistic Purposes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clive is interrupted at work. While helping his boss, he runs across something that he wasn't supposed to find.

Clive felt a tiny hand tug at the hem of his jacket.

“Hm?”

He looking down and found a teary-eyed young boy who was wiping his nose with his free hand.

“Where’s mum and dad and sissy?” he cried, shivering anxiously.

Clive’s chest and shoulders locked up. This was the worst part of his job. He loosened his tie a little so he could take a deep breath. _It’s okay,_ he thought to himself, _just relax. No one got hurt this time._ After a tense pause, he bent down and gave the child a sympathetic smile. He sighed nervously, putting his pen and notebook back in his bag.

“They’re all safe and sound. They were separated from you during the heist, but they should be at the police station, waiting for you.” Clive wiped tears out of the little boy’s eyes, stood up, and then gently took his hand.

“Let’s… get you back to your family.”

  


“Here,” Clive said, rather impatiently, as he shoved a mound of paper into his boss’s hands.

“…Thank you.” He skimmed through the stack. With each flick of his eyes his forehead wrinkled more and more. Clive tried to escape, but his boss interjected. “Wait a minute.”

“What?”

The boss rolled his eyes. “Oh you damn know what. You slapped this together in five minutes.”

“You told me to finish it quickly.”

He sighed and smirked. “Listen, you’re the best writer I’ve got. Don’t do this to me.”

“Lily, kids were screaming and crying for their parents. You would have had trouble writing about it if you had been there.”

“I get it, Clive. Armed robberies are scary. But you got there after the bad guys were locked up. You gotta do your job.” He squinted a little bit harder at the article. “Don’t make me bring this up with Chance. Fix the damn thing and bring it back by tomorrow morning.”

“I will, Mr. Lily.” Clive turned and left as a second journalist— a scrawny, anxious boy— came into the office.

 

Mr. Lily instantly lightened up and smiled. “Edgar! How’s it going, lad? Did you finish that old project of yours?”

“It’s all edited and finalized, Mr. Lily, boss, sir. Should be ready for the printers.” Edgar readjusted his huge square glasses and smiled shyly, apparently proud of his progress.

“Fabulous, Ed. Can you do me a favor, if you’ve got some time on your hands? I just started a project myself that involves a lot of cross-referencing— I need someone to fetch some old articles from the archives.”

“Oh, I’m sure sorry, Mr. Lily, I can’t. I just got a real pressing article about a professor that got beat up in an alleyway. But I can find someone to do that for you! What about Clive?”

Edgar spun around sharply. He left the office without waiting for Mr. Lily’s answer and ran to Clive, who had just sat down at his work desk.

“Mr. Clive, sir, do you have time to go to the archives right now and get some papers for Mr. Lily?”

“I have my own article to edit for tomorrow, but... it won’t take me very long to sort it out.” Clive laughed under his breath and smiled. “Of course I can make time for you.”

“Oh thank you!” With that, he grabbed Clive by the arm and whisked him away.

 

“Mr. Lily! Clive is here and he can get those articles for you!” Edgar said. Both Clive and Mr. Lily looked a little disoriented.

The boss mulled it over. “Fine. I need every article we’ve got from June of thirty-five.” He paused. “You’ll need this. Be back here in an hour, or I’ll come looking for you.” He reluctantly gave Clive a small key.                   

With a silent nod of acknowledgment, Clive left, Edgar by his side.

Mr. Lily glanced out the door to make sure that no one else was within earshot of him, then he said to himself, “Clive’s a damn good writer but it’s getting harder and harder to tolerate that boy. I should give him the weather reports, or the horoscopes or something.”

  


Key in hand, Clive headed toward the archives. He hadn’t spent much time in that particular room— he had an assistant who retrieved old articles for him. However, when he did come into the archives, he enjoyed the experience. The scent of ink, the repetitive motion of leafing through old documents, the humming of the printers in the distance. Once he arrived at the archive room and unlocked the door, Clive allowed himself a moment to breathe. His search began.

After sifting through a sea of aged paper, Clive had procured a large stack of articles for his boss. The search was challenging because only half of the company was organized; some writers made sure to put old articles back in chronological order, but others weren’t so careful. As a result, Clive felt the need to meticulously check every document that he could find. He knew that it would take most of the hour to complete, but he was finally beginning to relax and, in all honesty, had no intention of revising his bank robbery article any time in the near future. So, he procrastinated. And he rather enjoyed it.

In the midst of his search, Clive saw a small article that caught his eye. He gently  lifted the article out of its box.

> Millionaire Turns Benefactor, Adopts Orphan
> 
> On the fourteenth of this month, wealthy philanthropist Constance Dove adopted a child from one of the many orphanages she has sponsored over her lifetime. Ms. Dove does not wish to give out personal information regarding her adopted son. She has stated, however, that the boy’s name is Clive, and that his parents died under mysterious circumstances several weeks prior to his adoption. He will be the sole heir to the Dove family fortune...  

Clive’s attention drifted to a small picture nestled in the opening paragraph. He remembered that picture, the day he was adopted. It was a very good day. A soft smile spread across his face. He thought about his adoptive mother, who had passed away many months before. The thought of her still made his heart hurt. He held the article tightly in his hands and spent a long time just looking and remembering.

 

After reminiscing for awhile, he put the article back in its place. In doing so, however, he accidentally bumped his elbow against a tower of other papers. A chaotic mass of old newsprint tumbled down onto him.  

_Shi- Shit! Shit!_ He fought his way out of the paper avalanche and tried his best to gather it up. He tried to put the messy pile back into its place.

That was when he saw it.

 

Behind the giant stack, there was an oddly-shaped box nestled into the wall. Clive investigated and tried to open it, but it was locked. The lock wasn’t the only thing that bothered him, though.

Directly above the lock was a small plaque with three sets of numbers on it. Clive ran his fingers over the etched numbers that he recognized instantly; they formed a date that was seared into his brain.

“The… the explosion.”

He tried again to pry it open, this time with more fervor. After a couple of tries he realized that the box could be opened, just barely, with the lock still on it. Clive peeked in and saw several pieces of paper inside. He grabbed the box and shook it, keeping the lid open just a sliver.

Eventually, one slip of paper fell out of the box and landed like a feather onto the floor. He reached down to pick it up and found a simple list of three names.   

 

Bill Hawks

~~Claire Foley~~

And…


	3. Meetings, Interviews, and Near-Death Experiences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri finds himself in a difficult situation. Clive lies his way into Dimitri's life.

Dimitri Allen was not a very lucky person. He realized this as he crashed against the pavement, the men smiling wickedly around him.  
“What you got there, huh? Why don’t you give that little stack of paper to me?” one of them spat.  
“Yeah, what he said.”  
“Give it up, lad!”  
Dimitri wiped the blood off his forehead and held the file full of papers tightly to his chest. “I won’t let you. This is mine! My work! Get away from me!”  
“‘Your work? You a big university smartass then, eh?” The other men snickered at the comment. They moved closer and made a tight circle around him. They were strong and easily beat him down in the thin alley, snatching the papers out of his hands.  
“What do you want from me?” Dimitri cried out.  
“We just want to play a little game with you, that’s all.”  
“Yeah!”  
“Yeah!”  
Chuckling, they peered at the papers, checking to see what they contained.  
“Ooh, who’s this nice piece of ass, huh?” He pointed to a small picture of a red-haired woman.  
“That’s none of your business,” Dimitri said in a low, seething tone.  
“Well I guess you won’t be needing these no more.”  
“Nonononono please,” he whimpered as they shredded his pile of research. It didn’t do any good; they continued ripping and tearing until the wind blew the paper into the sky like pieces of confetti.  
The biggest and most menacing of the men stretched his shoulders and glanced at the others. “What do you say, boys? Should we teach this pretty bastard a lesson?”  
A chorus of affirmatives.  
“No --!” Dimitri tried to shout but they cut him off with a blow to the head. His vision began to spin and a shockwave of pain burst through him. He stumbled backward. Everything softened and slipped.

 

Clive dialed a number on the telephone.  
“Hello? Who is this?”  
“Hello, my name is Clive Dove, I’m looking for--”  
A gruff “Not interested”, and the call ended.  
“Well, shit,” Clive sighed. He had tried several phone numbers over the past few days. No leads. No help. No information whatsoever that could help him in his own private investigation. One last number in his hand, Clive crossed his fingers and made another call.  
“Gressenheller University, this is Charlotte speaking, how may I help you?”  
“Um, hello, Charlotte. My name is Clive Dove and I’m trying to reach a Mr. Dimitri Allen.”  
“Hold on a moment, I will call the records office and see if he’s here today.”  
He impatiently tapped his foot, waiting and hoping.  
More silence.  
“Oh dear, he’s not in his lab today. It appears that he’s in the hospital.”  
This came as a surprise. “Do you know which hospital he’s in? I really need to talk to him, sooner rather than later.”  
“Don’t be impatient with me, dear, just give me a minute and I’ll check in with his professors.”  
Clive realized that he had been talking in a fairly aggressive tone. He took a deep breath. The thought of getting more information about his past burned in his brain. Normally he tried to avoid thinking about the incident, because remembering was a form of self-torture— a deep well that he couldn’t get out of once he jumped in.  
“Ah, he’s in the hospital on King Edward Street. Take care now, and let him know that we’re thinking of him here at Gressenheller.”  
“Thank you for letting me know. Goodbye, now.”  
“Goodbye.”  
Clive hung up the phone. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information. He knew it was best to leave someone alone if they were hospitalized, but… he was too impatient. I have a lead, I need to talk to this man. If he’s in the hospital, this may be my last chance.  
Briefcase in hand, adrenaline pumping, Clive left his apartment.

Halfway there, it dawned on him that no one would let an absolute stranger into someone’s hospital room. He could lie and say that he was related to Mr. Allen, but what if they looked nothing alike? He cursed himself a little for not doing more research. But he was too invested to back out now. He had faith in his ability to concoct very convincing lies.

The scent of cleaning products and bodily fluids stung in Clive’s nose. The hospital was bustling. He pushed his way to the front desk, passing people who were impatiently waiting to be seen by a doctor. He adjusted his tie and performed.  
“Hello, ma’am, I am with the London Times—” he showed his official badge— “and I was sent here to interview a Mr. Dimitri Allen.”  
The woman at the desk slowly sifted through a stack of papers. Clive grew more and more impatient with each turn of a page. After several minutes of page turning, however, her eyes lit up and she gasped. “Oh, the one that was attacked in an alley? That Dimitri Allen?”  
That threw him completely off guard. He stood in silence for a moment then continued. “...Um, yes, I was told to investigate the incident. May I speak with him?”  
“Well of course! Why didn’t you just say so? He’s in room thirty-nine on the second floor. If you have any trouble finding him, just ask one of the nurses in red trousers to help you, dear.”  
After a quick thank-you, Clive left the receptionist and fought his way into the crowded staircase. He moved slowly, preparing himself. His insides were twisting and churning at the thought of meeting a man who knew about the fire. What if Mr. Allen had started it? Suddenly Clive felt hot fear bubbling up in his lungs. He hadn’t even considered that thought. As he reached door number thirty-nine, he took a deep breath, knowing that this meeting was going to change him. He gently knocked on the door.

Silence.

Hm… Is he asleep? Maybe I should just leave. Clive clenched his fists. His anxiety was raging. For a moment, he stood at the door in silence, trying his best to build up some courage. He knocked again, this time a little louder.

A feeble “Come in.”

Dimitri Allen was laying down in a hospital bed, completely covered in bandages. A massive gauze patch covered his left eye, and dried blood was caked in his long grey hair. His pained expression shifted into confusion. In a quiet, shaky voice, he asked, “Who are you?”  
Clive didn’t seem to know the answer. He wanted to ask a million questions, but seeing Mr. Allen so broken made him reconsider. I don’t want to stress him out with too many personal questions. Maybe I should just talk and get to know him. Hmm… We’ll get to the explosion later. “My name is Clive Dove, and I’m a reporter for the London Times. I was… I was sent to gather information about the incident.” He sat down in a frail green chair next to the bed.  
Clive had an epiphany. He remembered hearing about a similar event while he was working…  
He continued. “I wanted to know what happened to you. Someone else was assaulted in an alleyway last week, and I wonder if the same group of people hurt you both.”  
“This whole experience has been a bit of a blur. Forgive me if I don’t give you any meaningful information.”  
“It’s fine, Mr. Allen.”  
“Dimitri, please. Well, I don’t remember much, they were all very strong and tall, they had… red shirts on? I was walking down Chestnut Alley with a stack of papers and they came up behind me.”  
“What were the papers for?”  
“Um…” Dimitri suddenly looked very sad. “Research.”  
“Research for what? A class, or a personal project?”  
After a pause, he replied, “It was for an old friend. That’s all.”  
Clive wanted to dive deeper into the papers, but he remembered the fabricated reason for his visit and he moved on. “So what happened after they came up behind you?”  
“They knocked me down,” he said with a hoarse cough. “They beat the shit out of me and just left me there. One of them punched me in the face and I lost consciousness. I woke up here.”  
“Hmm.” Clive took notes. “Do you remember anything else about their appearances? How many, what gender, hair color, clothing?”  
“You’re really quizzing me. I said I don’t remember much. I don’t think you’d remember much if you were punched in the face either.”  
“I apologize, Mr. Allen.”  
A sigh. “Dimitri.”

“I’m sorry, I just… really want to help you.” And it suddenly dawned on Clive that he really did want to help him.  
Dimitri let out a weak smile. “Thank you. It’s been a difficult time. So, um, I think there were four of them, all men in fairly casual dress. To be honest they all looked the same except for one who was taller than the rest. That is all I can remember at the moment.”  
After writing down these details, Clive said, “Thank you for talking with me. I hope that we can catch whoever hurt you.”

“I sure hope so. I’m glad you came in.”  
“Would you mind having a quick follow-up with me sometime soon?”  
Dimitri agreed, and the two exchanged information. After a gentle handshake, Clive stood up and began to walk out the door. Suddenly, Dimitri said, “And Clive?”  
“Yes?”  
“Did you dress yourself this morning?”  
“Well of course I did,” he said, slightly confused.  
“Hm. Goodbye now.”


	4. Their Tea Got Very Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clive and Dimitri have a deep conversation.

“Thank you again for coming.”

“It was no problem,” Dimitri said. He took a contemplative sip of tea. “So how’s the investigation?”

“I’m still looking into the incident,” Clive lied, taking out an old notepad from their previous visit. “Those men have been difficult to catch.”  

“They must be. I didn’t even notice they were there until they were right up on me. They’re elusive little bastards.” He paused. “I don’t have any more details for you. I wish I could remember more of that day but I can’t.”

“No worries,” Clive said. “It’s good to catch up with you anyway.”

“Likewise. I don’t really get out much. I’m enjoying the company. For the most part.”

“Huh?”

Dimitri sighed and smiled. “We need to have a talk about your clothes.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Hm. Where do I start? I’ll start with the green.” He made a sweeping hand gesture. “Too much. Too many. You’re wearing three different shades of green. That’s too much green, my boy.”

“You can’t tell me what to wear. You’re not my father. I think I look fine.”

Dimitri chuckled. “Alright then. If you say so.”

“Excuse me?” 

 

They conversed over tea, just the two of them on a patio outside a small café. The afternoon turned slightly chill, but they continued to chatter away. 

 

“This may come as an odd question, but why are you so interested in my whereabouts?” Dimitri asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, I was assigned your story, and really just wanted to follow up and make sure you were alright.”

“You’re sweet, dear, but I for some reason I don’t quite believe it.”

Clive was taken aback. “I’m not lying to you, Dimitri. I have my official press pass with me.” He reached into his pocket and gave him his identification card.

“Oh. Never mind, then. This looks very official. I don’t know why I thought you were bluffing.”

 

Eager to change the subject, Clive flipped through his notepad in search of something to talk about. 

 

“Last time we met, you said that the people who hurt you destroyed your research. I wanted to know a little more about that, Dimitri.”

He tensed up. “What do you want to know about it?”

“Well, frankly, it seemed a little suspicious. Why would a group of thugs go after a research paper?”

“The papers seemed more of an afterthought to them. They were looking for someone to beat up and they ran into me.” 

“Are you sure they didn’t target you?”

“I… um, I don’t know. I’d rather not talk about it.”

Clive finished writing and put his notepad down. “I just think there’s a reason they came after you. You must have had something they wanted to destroy. But why your papers?”   
“Well I don’t know why they would have wanted to destroy my research…” Dimitri trailed off.

“What was your research about?”

Dimitri became extremely defensive. “It was nothing. Nothing of any importance. How do I know you’re not involved with those goons?”

“I just wanted to know what your research was about.”

“It’s just… for a friend. Nothing out of the ordinary. I wanted to get some information for my good friend.”

“What is their name, this friend of yours?”

Dimitri was visibly agitated. “You don’t need to know.”

“Please just tell me their name.”

He paused for a minute and bluntly said, “Claire.”

Clive’s eyes lit up. “Wait! You mean Claire Foley?”

Dimitri slammed his fist against the table. “What do you want from me?! You’ve got a motive, that’s for sure. What is it? Money? Information? Are you here to spy on me, you little prick?”

“I’m not trying to offend you--”

“Well you’re doing a horrible job, Clive, dear.”

“Listen to me please.”   
“I’m listening. What do you want?”

Clive became tense. “I want to know what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“The explosion.”

At this point Dimitri had had enough. He stood up and moved far away from Clive, glaring at him the whole time. “I don’t know any more than you do.”

This angered him. “But you should! I’ve been trying to piece it together for years and all of the clues have lead to you! I need to know what happened! What are you hiding?”

“None of your business!”

Clive felt angry tears start to well up in his eyes. “My parents died in that explosion. I was a child. I’ll be fucked if it’s not my business.” He forcefully rolled up his sleeve. “I want to know why I got this,” he said, showing Dimitri his heavily scarred forearm.

 

Dimitri stopped and noticed that he was breathing fast and heavy. He was at a loss for words, angry and sad and guilty and scared. “I… I…”

A tense pause. 

“You want the truth? Fine. We were in a laboratory working on a large machine and it malfunctioned. There. That’s it. None of us knew that it would happen. My best friend lost her life in the aftermath. She…” He lost all composure and began to cry. “I tried to stop it but I was too late.”

 

Clive took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. “Oh.” 

 

For a moment, they stood in silence, processing what had been said. Clive continued, quietly. “I… um, want to tell you something. I suppose it’s only fair.”

“Yes?”

“I… at the London Times the other day, I found a box. It was marked with the date of the explosion, and it was locked.”

Dimitri nodded. “Hmm.”

“I was able to get a slip of paper out of the box. It was a list of names: Claire Foley, Bill Hawks, and you. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to investigate. I’m not here to hurt you, or spy on you, or anything like that. I just want to know what happened to my family all those years ago. You said you worked on a machine?”

A shaky sigh. “Yes, it was complicated technology, and the government became involved. It was… it was a time machine.”

“A what?!”

“And it almost worked. We were so close to finishing it, but Bill insisted we test it before I was happy with it.”

 

Both men took a moment to breathe and reassess the situation. Dimitri sat back down at the table and took a long drink. Clive was shaking.

 

“I think we need to talk to Mr. Hawks,” Clive said.

Dimitri winced a little at the name. “More importantly, we need that box.” He grabbed Clive’s hand and moved in very close to his face. “I need to piece it together as much as you do. I worked on the damn machine and I’m still in the dark about what happened and why. And you know what, I think those goons beat me for a reason. Someone doesn’t want us to know what happened that day.”

“But we need to know,” Clive said, charged with newly found energy. “And I’m going to help you. Together we’re going to get to the bottom of this.” He paused for a moment, lost in thought. “I could get us into the London Times, but the archive room is locked. I know where the box is though.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I built a goddamn time machine, I can pick a lock or two.”

They didn’t leave the patio until well into the night. Their tea got very cold.


	5. Thievery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clive and Dimitri attempt to steal the box marked with the date of the explosion. Chaos ensues.

“Does my outfit look okay?” Dimitri whispered.

“Shut up,” Clive replied. 

 

The London Times office building was very quiet at one o’clock in the morning. Only a few journalists lingered. It didn’t take much for Clive and Dimitri to walk into the building and reach the upper level— most of the people they ran into were too tired to see through their disguises, which were a little haphazard at best. Clive wore an itchy blond wig and had to constantly resist the urge to scratch his scalp.

Eventually they reached the archive room. “Watch this,” Dimitri said with a smirk. He reached into his pocket and took out a small contraption the size of a toothpick. It made whirring sounds when he stuck it into the keyhole, and after a moment the lock clicked open. 

“Hm. Impressive.”

They stepped into the archives. Dimitri was overwhelmed at the massive stacks of paper. He let Clive guide him through the newsprint sea. Once they reached the right stack, they worked together to move it so they could get to the box. 

“This is it.” Clive passed the box to Dimitri. 

He held it gently and ran his thumb over the numbers on the front. His eyes sparkled hungrily. “Let’s take this and get out of here.”

 

Just as they stepped out of the archive room, lights began to flash and a siren pierced the air. The two ran as fast as they could down the stairs and fled the building, hoping that no one recognized them on their way out. 

 

The very next morning, the boss was panicked and furious. 

Mr. Lily gathered his crew together for an emergency meeting.

“It looks like some bastard snuck into our office and stole something important.”

“What did they steal?” A journalist asked. 

“Confidential,” was his blunt reply. “I’d like to speak to all of you privately to see if you have any important information about last night’s incident. Clive, meet me in my office please.”

All of the journalists became suspicious of each other. The silence was deafening, especially for the guilty party.

 

Clive walked slowly, his nerves getting to him. As he entered the office, the door shut with a loud thud. 

“Did you take it?” Mr. Lily said.

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His brow furrowed. “Don’t screw around with me boy, give me a yes or a no. Did you come into the office last night and steal something?”

“I didn’t steal anything, Mr. Lily.”

“Hm.” The boss paced around the office. “Can you tell me what was stolen?”

“...Maybe some old file or a bank record? I told you, I don’t know what happened last night. Why are you asking me all of these questions? I wasn’t there, and if I was, I would not have stolen anything. You know that.”

“But you are my prime suspect, Clive dear,” Lily replied, aggravated. 

 

“What?” Clive struggled to give away any information about the box he had stolen. After taking it out of the London Times building, they brought it to Dimitri’s apartment and broke it open. There were too many papers to go through in one night. They found records of hefty bank accounts and letters from Bill Hawks to various businessmen. The papers suggested some shady business deal, but there just wasn’t enough information to make any solid conclusions. 

“Listen,” Clive continued, “I did  _ not _ steal anything. I don’t even know what happened last night. Why am I a suspect? Do you not trust me?”

Mr. Lily shifted uncomfortably. Clearly he wanted to say something, but he hesitated. “I— some of the clues lead to you.” He sighed angrily and stared Clive down. “Get out of my office. Stay quiet and stay in line, or else you’ll be out of a job before you can blink an eye. I’m watching you, Dove.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Lily.”

 

The next one to be interrogated was Edgar, who almost immediately burst into tears. Clive could hear him sniffling and fumbling with his glasses from outside of the office. 

 

Silence from all the other journalists. 

 

The workday was a long and difficult one; everyone was on edge and the hours ticked by at a glacial pace. Clive sat at his desk and kept his head down, thinking about his next move. He had called Prime Minister Bill Hawks in the morning and asked for a private press meeting. He let Dimitri know the date and time, and they waited a painful amount of time for the confrontation.  

He couldn’t stop thinking about the box. Why was it protected so fiercely? It bothered him to think that the press what hiding information about the explosion. Even if it was information that he didn’t quite understand. He wanted to know. Everything.

 

Eventually, the evening came. 


	6. Blood and Reputation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clive and Dimitri confront Bill Hawks.

Clive and Dimitri were visibly shaking. 

 

“Okay, let’s go over this one more time. I’ll show him my press pass,” Clive said, fumbling through the pocket of his wool coat. “Then we’ll bring up next year’s election and talk about it, then we’ll move to the box. Okay?”

“I hope we learn something from this. I have a bad feeling about it.”

“I do, too.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Dimitri held the box underneath his long coat. The box was fairly small, but he still looked suspicious carrying it. 

 

They walked quickly across a bitterly cold London. With each step they became more tense and more eager for the meeting to be over. Dimitri realized that he didn’t know what he wanted to get out of the confrontation. He felt lost, and the idea of talking to Bill again brought back painful memories. After the explosion, Bill had stopped speaking to him. 

 

They reached the front door and paused. A long, heavy sigh. Clive was the one to knock on the door. 

 

An old man in a suit that stretched tightly across his crooked spine answered the door. He looked at them passively and said, “What brings you here, sirs?”

“We have a meeting with Prime Minister Hawks at nine-thirty.”

“Ah, yes. I heard Mr. Hawks talking to one of his assistants about a meeting today. Do come in.”

The two were ushered into a lavish entryway, where they hung up their coats. The butler led them further into the heart of the building, until they reached a large door that had a gold placard which read BILL HAWKS. Taking the key out of his pocket and unlocking the door, the butler called out, “Mr. Hawks, you have guests.” 

Clive and Dimitri took cautious steps into the Prime Minister’s office, flinching when they heard the door slam behind them. 

 

“Ah, you must be Clive Dove? Pleasure to meet you, young man.” 

“Pleasure,” Clive replied, shaking his hand.

“Please, sit down.” They sat down in stuffy chairs and faced Bill Hawks. 

“Now what was it that you wanted to talk to me about, my boy?”

That fatherly tone irritated Clive. He took out his press pass and said, “Well you see, sir, we’d like to interview you about your campaign strategy for the upcoming election.”

“Hm.” Hawks seemed to know that something wasn’t quite right. “Then why are you here?” He looked over at Dimitri. “Did you get into journalism after our… experiment, um, Delaney?”

“It’s Dimitri,” said Dimitri. 

“Ah, yes, I remember now. It’s been such a long time since we’ve talked. What have you been up to these days?”

“I… I’ve been doing more research into… simpler machines.”

Hawks let out a little chuckle. “Good to see that you’re doing well. But why are you here to interview me?”

“He’s my friend,” Clive interjected. 

“Yes, I’m here for moral support.”

“Hm.” 

 

Bill Hawks mindlessly shuffled papers on his desk. Clive noticed that one had a name on it— he could barely make it out. Lay… something?

 

He got up from his desk and began pacing the room around Dimitri and Clive. “I don’t think you’re here to interview me about the election. Otherwise you two wouldn’t be so nervous and uptight. What is it that you want from me?” 

 

“Closure,” Clive said. “How about this: we’ll cut right to the chase.”

“Clive…” Dimitri put a cautionary hand on his shoulder.

“Fine.” Bill Hawks said. “What are you here for? Money? Some kind of deal?”

“We want information about a particular date that you may remember well.” Clive took the box from Dimitri.

“Oh god.” Hawks suddenly tensed up. His breath became short and panicky, but he held his composure. “Give that to me.”

“Not until you give us some information.”

“Fine then. What do you want to know?”

Dimitri balled his fists. “Why did you test the machine before it was ready?”

 

A pause. 

 

“I thought it was okay to test it.”

“You’re not that stupid!” Dimitri spat. “I told you it wasn’t ready to test. You knew that. Why did you test it before I gave permission?”

“It was an honest mistake, Dimitri!”

“No one accidentally turns on a fucking time machine, Bill!”

“I needed the money!”

 

Clive and Dimitri felt their eyes widen. “What?”

“I… a third party was interested in the technology… I had to test it before a certain date so that we could make a deal. I knew the blasted thing wouldn’t work, I just didn’t expect it to explode.”

“You sold my machine?”

Bill Hawks sighed angrily. “How are you so dumb? The technology was brilliant, and a lot of businesses wanted in on it! You were too busy playing with your tinker toys to understand. When it came to selling, I was the only one with the initiative.”

“You sold that tech behind my back? Bill I’m suffering! I barely have enough to pay my rent! Why… How much was it?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

Dimitri stood up and moved in front of Bill Hawks, glaring at him. “How much was it.”

 

Bill smiled. “Millions. I needed that money if I was going to climb the ladder. I owe my status as Prime Minister to that single transaction.”

 

Clive was seething. “So you killed my family for money?”

“Ah, Clive. Good to see you’re still here. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a long time. It’s a good thing you didn’t go meddling in my business, unlike Dimitri over here. I had to send in backup to keep him quiet. Apparently that didn’t work.” 

 

“Wait, you sent those men to beat him?” Clive said with a gasp. 

“Of course. I didn’t want him on my trail.”

“You do realize that as soon as I get this to the papers, you’re going to be behind bars, right?”

“Ah.” Bill said. “You don’t have to worry about that, because you won’t be leaving.”

  
  


Bill pressed a button on his desk, and two massive bodyguards came in. They clawed at Clive and Dimitri and began to beat them viciously. A guard punched Clive in the jaw and shoved him to the ground. He tried to scream but he lost feeling in the left side of his face. Dimitri yelped with pain as the guard grabbed him by the neck and beat his head against the wall. Blow after blow, Dimitri shriveled in agony. 

 

Suddenly they were ordered to stop. 

 

The guards held Clive and Dimitri on the floor. A figure stood over them and looked down on their broken bodies. 

 

“Boys. I put a lot of money and effort into making sure that that incident never saw the light of day. You think it was easy, getting this position? I had to bribe all the newspapers to keep the explosion off of the front pages. You aren’t going to bring this up to anyone, and you aren’t going to ruin my reputation. This is a damn expensive reputation! One that I don’t intend on losing.”   
  


Clive glared at him and spoke, his voice muffled by an alarming amount of blood that was pooling in his mouth. “You can’t keep this a secret for much longer. The people of London deserve the truth!”    
  
The guard shifted slightly on top of Clive so that he could jam his knee into Clive’s gut. 

 

Bill picked up his telephone and dialed a number. Casually, he added, “The truth is that Dimitri killed your family.” He stood in silence while he waited for an answer. Finally, someone picked up. 

“Hey there, Mr. Lily! How’s it going, old boy? You see, I have a mess that needs cleaned up over in my office. It appears that a Mr. Clive Dove and Mr. Dimitri Allen have stolen a box from us, can you come by and pick it up? Thanks, Lily. See you soon. Goodbye.”   
  


He put the phone down and turned to the two on the floor. “You stole government property. I have the authority to throw you in prison.”

 

The guards cackled. 

 

“Finish him first,” Bill said dryly, pointing to Clive. The guard nodded, then put his massive hands around Clive’s throat and squeezed as tightly as he could. 

 

Dimitri silently wormed his way out of his guard’s grip… 

 

Clive convulsed on the floor and dug his nails into the guard’s arm, but he wouldn’t let go. His vision began to slip and the room tilted in on itself… 

 

Suddenly Dimitri shot up and grabbed a heavy book off of Bill Hawks’ desk. He swung it and hit his guard’s face, knocking him out. The man on top of Clive turned to see Dimitri lunging toward him. He let go and charged forward. Before he could land a blow on Dimitri, however, Clive hit the guard sharply in the back of the head. Dimitri grabbed Clive’s arm tightly and together they ran. They heard screaming and yelling. Gunshots rang out into the night. They flew through the halls and to the doorway, their heads throbbing in pain. No one was there to stop them except for the old butler. But he wasn’t able to slow them down. Fueled completely by fear, they ran across London. They heard people shouting after them but they didn’t stop running. They ran until the adrenaline wore off and their pain decided to make itself known, which was when they reached an alley by Midland Road. Dimitri collapsed against a building while Clive vomited into a gutter. Both were covered in blood.

 

Through the silence, they coughed and gasped for air. They fingered their wounds cautiously. In the distance, police sirens wailed.

  
“Dimitri?”

Dimitri made a feeble grunting noise.

“We need to get somewhere safe.”

“Yeah.” Dimitri paused to take a deep breath. “But London isn’t safe now.”

“So where do we go?”

“I don’t know.”

 

More painful silence. 

 

“If we could just dig a hole and hide underground, that would be lovely,” Dimitri said, almost delirious. 

 

Suddenly it hit him. “That’s it,” Clive interjected. “I know a place where we can hide. It’s on this street. Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes away from here.” He slurred his words a bit. “Let’s get going.”

 

The two stood up slowly. They put their arms over each other’s shoulders so that they wouldn’t fall. Turning out of they alley, they walked with careful, jagged steps. They struggled to move forward, but the sound of police sirens kept them going. Eventually, after what felt like hours of walking, they reached a small building with an old clock on the front facade. Clive pressed a panel on the door to unlock it. He ushered a cautious Dimitri into the doorway.

 

He shut the door forcefully and locked it. They were safe. 

 

Clive looked over at Dimitri and said, “We need to get underground. The Family will be down there and they can help us with our wounds.”

“The Family?”

“Come with me, I’ll show you.” He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked an ornate door. It opened into a small, empty room with a single lever in one corner. “Can you help me with this?” Clive gestured toward the lever. “Normally I can do it myself, but…” He looked down at himself with a hint of shame. 

 

“Of course I can help.” Together they pushed on the lever until it made a loud clicking sound. 

“You might want to hold onto something,” Clive said with a weak smile. 

 

Suddenly the entire room dropped. Dimitri let out a panicked cry as the two fell downward. He managed to stay upright, but he clung to the lever for dear life until the room itself came to a screeching halt. 

 

“What the hell was that?!” Dimitri asked. 

Clive wasn’t listening. He walked out of the room and into an underground city. A man in a crisp black suit came up to him. 

 

“Master Clive, what happened to you?”

“My friend and I got hurt, we need some help.” He pressed his hand against his shoulder, which had been grazed by a bullet. “Can you get us to the hospital?”

“Of course,” the man responded. He dutifully left to find medical supplies and an ambulance. 

 

Just then, Dimitri stepped out of the elevator and gasped. “What… what is this?”

 

“The bunker.”


	7. Underground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback.

Madame Dove liked to go on evening walks with her son. As day turned to night, the sky produced vibrant oranges, reds and blues that pleased her very much. She had an ulterior motive, however, for her walk this evening.

“Look at that, mum!” Clive pointed up to the sunset, which poured out golden light over the city of London. 

“Yes, dear, that’s absolutely beautiful.” 

As Clive turned the corner of their usual route, Mme. Dove laid her hand gently on her son’s shoulder. “I think I’d like to try a different route tonight.”

“Oh. Alright.” This immediately piqued his interest, since she was such a creature of habit. “Where do you want to go?”

“I have an idea.” Her mouth gently lifted into a sly smile. “Let’s turn here onto Midland Road.”

After walking for a few minutes and taking in the scenery, Mme. Dove stopped in front of a giant clock. 

“...Mum? What is that?”

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. “I want to show you something very special, dear.” She walked up to the door of the clock-building and pressed a panel on the elegant front door. They walked into the building, Clive buzzing with nervousness and curiosity. 

 

The inside of the building was decorated sparingly, with a few dusty tables and a pair of stately clocks quietly ticking away. An old door stood on the right side of the room. What concerned Clive the most was the lock-- it was the size of his head and looked impossible to open. That’s why he felt completely compelled to open it. 

“I have a surprise for you, Clive.” Mme. Dove reached into her coat pocket and gave Clive a key wrapped in ornate olive branches of gold and silver. 

He looked up, perplexed. “Wait.. Is this key for …? ” Clive pointed to the massive lock on his right. 

Saying nothing, Mme. Dove ushered Clive to the locked door. 

 

“Wait! Young sir!”

The sound startled them, but as they turned around they laughed and smiled at the sight of their good friends, Cogg and Spring. 

“My word, I wasn’t expecting you,” Mme. Dove said breathlessly.

After the initial shock, Clive laughed and ran to Cogg, pushing him backward with a massive hug.

“Well, Miss, we wouldn’t want to miss such a moment! Our boy, all grown up!”

“I’m only sixteen, Spring. I’m not a grown up yet.”

“But this is a good day. An important one for ya, our young man. Go ahead, Miss.”

Clive was shaking with excitement. “What is it, mum?”

“Alright dear. As a little test, I need you to unlock this door.” She gestured at the impossible lock. 

“Oh,” Clive walked over to the locked door, which was much larger than him, and studied the lock. Upon closer examination, he realized that it was covered in ornate olive branches, much like the key he was given. The lock was a solid block of metal-- he couldn’t find a keyhole on the entire mechanism.  _ Wh-What? There must be a trick to this…  _

He looked down at the key in his hand, hoping for a clue. No engravings or riddles anywhere. He looked up at his mother, hoping for a clue. None to be found. 

But then he thought about the panels on the front door.  _ That’s it! Maybe I have to push a button of some kind?  _ Mulling over the pattern, Clive twirled the key in between his fingers. Suddenly he had a thought. Looking down at the key, he realized what had to be done. Clive did his very best to memorize the pattern of branches and leaves on the key, which was a challenging feat. Then, he searched and inspected and traced the design with his fingers. It took several minutes, but he found it. 

He saw the space where the pattern on the key matched the lock. Then, he pushed the key onto that space, flat so that a key-shaped section of metal was displaced.   

 

With a  _ click  _ and a loud  _ creeeak,  _ the branches on the lock shifted and turned.

“I did it, mum! I did it!”

Mme. Dove ruffled her son’s hair and smiled. “I knew you could. Remember that, now, so that you can do it again next time.”

 

A little puzzled, Clive helped his mother push the large door open to reveal…  

 

An empty room, save a large lever in the corner. 

Clive became even more curious.

“I suppose I have some explaining to do,” Mme. Dove said as she closed and locked the massive door behind her. 

“Yes. I think you do.”

“Well, my love, you weren’t around when the War took place. We were all terrified; not only for our lives but for our homes as well… I feared that the manor would be completely destroyed and I’d be left to fend for myself on the streets. So, I decided to build a safe place for me and my most precious belongings. Cogg, dear, would you mind doing the honors?”

With a rather business-like nod, he gripped the handle of the crank. Clive smiled a wily smile.  _ Mum knows I like mysteries. I wonder what she’s been keeping from me. Maybe some kind of hidden treasure…? _

Suddenly the floor gave out from underneath them and Clive let out a panicked scream. 

 

Down,

 

Down,

 

Down they fell until an unseen mechanism screeched to a halt. Mme. Dove found her son, lightheaded and very alarmed, clinging to her arm. 

Spring chuckled. “A little ride on the lift too much for ya, eh?”

Everyone laughed, even Clive, who was much too invested in the adventure to be offended.

“Come, dear. I have many things to show you.” 

 

As they opened the door and left the building, they entered the massive underground bunker. Massive was an understatement, little Clive saw immediately. It looked like an underground city, with rows upon rows of buildings, houses, storage spaces and even a few grassy parks. The expanse of land rose and fell in steep hills as far as the eye could see. 

Clive’s face broke into a warm smile as he took in this magnificent sight. “This is amazing, mum. It’s like… it’s like a little London! People built this all for you!?”

“Oh, why thank you. I wanted to create a space for me, but for others as well. If a disaster happens and someone attacks the city,”-- she looked down at her son-- “I could bring Londoners down here to stay safe. We could fit several hundred people in this bunker. There are buildings for housing, utilities, and storage all over. There’s even a factory in case things became dire above ground and we had to stay here long term.”  

Just then, a sharply dressed man with a long beard walked up to the woman. He gave her a quick nod and said, “Good evening, boss. The gas leak from Thursday has been fixed. We replaced the busted pipes.”

“Thank you, dear. May I introduce you to my boy?” Mme. Dove gestured down to Clive, who was as curious as he was scared. He shuffled his feet and stood behind his mother.

“So this is the young lad? Pleasure to meet you, little boss.” He bent down to shake and consequently crush Clive’s hand. 

“Pleasure,” Clive squeaked.  

“This is his first time in the bunker. I’d like to show him around and introduce him to the rest of the Family.”

Clive gave his mother a puzzled look. “The Family?”

Her face darkened. “Yes, the Family… is the group of people that work in and manage the bunker.” Mme. Dove trailed off. Clive gently took her hand. 

“Well, dearest, this is the secret I have been keeping from you. I don’t want you telling anyone else about it. Only Cogg, Spring, you and I know how to get in. Our fortune is hidden down here.” She let out a sigh. “And soon, when I’m gone, this will all be yours.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Clive said, rather bluntly.

“But my dear, it will happen at some point--”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Clive snapped.

Mme. Dove pulled him into a hug. “Oh, Clive, I love you.”

“I love you too, mum.”

A sigh and a brief pause. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! There are at least 6 more chapters to come in the following weeks! <3


End file.
